I’ve been so entrenched in caregiving, I decided I needed a girl’s day out. So I went out, all by myself. I need to find a mother-of-the -bride dress, because well, I’m the mother-of-the-bride.

My friends insisted I try to find a gown at Neiman Marcus. This store is ridiculous. On my way to the evening gown department, I walked by a “SALE” table loaded with purses. The sale was 50% off, as marked on the price tag. The first tiny clutch I picked up off the table is on sale for $2500.00 TWO THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS! Hmmm. Might be out of my league here.

But my sister bought her mother-of-the-bride dress here and the price was well within all the other places we had gone to. I forged ahead to the snooty, fancy-pants evening gown department, which was right next to the shoe department where the Christian Louboutins snuggled every so comfortably next to the Jimmy Choos. Not a pair was under $600.

But, okay. I would not be stopped. I found a few gowns to try. I couldn’t find a salesgirl to save my life. So I stood outside the locked dressing room, struggling to hold these expensive, voluminous gowns while praying someone would come to my rescue.

Finally, a sales person shows up, ever so happily puts me in a dressing room and comments as she leaves. “Oh, I don’t think you want to try on THAT dress, it’s cut way too low in the back.” All that did was piss me off, and I said, “No, I want to try it on anyway.”

I swear to God, there isn’t one damn item in this store for less than $100, and now in the dead of August, when it is over 90 degrees outside, these dressing rooms are NOT air-conditioned. What, they can’t afford the electricity? I’m sweating profusely while taking off my clothes. Now, I’m going to try and put on slinky gowns that stick to me in every possible crevice. It’s hotter than the hinges of hell in here.

Many minutes go by and no one comes by to help me. I peek out of my dressing room completely unzipped and there’s a man chatting with a woman about the Jimmy Choo’s she’s trying on in the dressing room.

First, why is there a man back here, when we are in various stages of undress? Why isn’t there anyone to help me zip up a $700 gown. And why is it so damn hot in here?

I struggle in and out of a few dresses…nary a sales person in sight, except for the conversation I’m hearing in the next dressing room.

The man and woman are discussing how adorable the shoes are that she is trying on. THEY have a sales woman who is bringing them different sizes of shoes, in the dressing room. Is it me, or is that weird? Go to the damn shoe department, and take that cursed man with you.

And then I hear why I’m getting no help.

She: “So we have about 10 grand in shoes here.”

He: “Yeah, that seems right.”

She: “Well, we have four grand in clothes, so we’re right where we want to be with that.”

He: “Yeah. So the shoes should be okay.”

Why would anyone help little old me with just a $700 gown?

I’m pretty sure those two had their own air conditioner in their dressing room.